At Least We'll Have This Dance
by JuliaDarkness
Summary: Sometimes you have to just live in the moment. . .


**Author's note: I don't own Carmilla.**

The fire crackles and the relaxed breathing of her friends fill the air like a lullaby. But Laura cannot sleep. Not yet.

It was the day before New Year's Eve. The group had found an old mansion for sale just outside of the latest town they passed. By some miracle the house still had heating and plumbing, although it looked like no one has lived there in years. White cloth covered furniture, and cobwebs hung from the chandeliers.

Everyone gathered around the fireplace in the study. Lafontaine and Perry shared a sleeping bag they found. Lafontaine's head rested on Perry's shoulder. Carmilla had went downstairs twenty minutes ago. She said she wanted to explore the rest of the house. Laura knew she really didn't have to worry-her girlfriend was a vampire, after all-but she'd seen enough horror movies to know that old mansions on the outskirts of town are great places for serial killers.

Just as she trying to decide whether or not to go to sleep, Laura heard music downstairs. Piano music, a waltz of some kind. With an envious last look at her sleeping companions, Laura went downstairs to see what sort of serial killer plays piano to terrify their victims.

In the back of the house there was what could only be described as a ball room. A lightless chandelier hung from the ceiling. The white and gold tile floor was faded with dust. In the corner, Carmilla sat in front of a piano, playing.

"Can't sleep," she asked without looking up.

"No. You?"

"No." Carmilla laughed softly. "You know, this place reminds me of my first ball, when I was 16." She got up, walking slowly to Laura. "I was so excited, finally being able to dance with the adults, attend the season, and hopefully even find a suitor."

"A suitor?"

"I knew I was different, but I also knew what was expected of me. If I married I could have my own castle, my own life. Besides, the only other alternative was a nunnery. And it's not like we didn't have lovers back then." She spun around as though she was wearing a ball gown instead of blue jeans. Her eyes searched the room for partners that didn't exist. "I had my whole life ahead of me."

"You still do." Laura hesitated, then took her hand. "And now you have me."

"But not for long. Pretty soon you'll fade, like my family and friends did long ago." Carmilla held Laura's hand in her's, tracing the lines in her palm with her fingers. "Loving me. . . is like loving a statue."

"Can a statue dance?" Laura took out her phone. She picked an old Austrian waltz to play, then set it down on the piano. As opening notes played, Laura held out her hand like an 18th century gentleman. Carmilla laughed, in spite of herself. She took her hand, letting Laura take the lead for once. They stepped into the middle of the room, and began to dance.

Laura couldn't help but think of beauty and the beast. Here she was, in an old ballroom with a roommate she had hated on sight. Yet over time, that hate some grew into friendship, and love. If they could find a happy ending, maybe so could Carmilla and her. Sure, life wasn't a Disney movie, especially when you went to Silas. Yet against whatever odds, for whatever reason, Laura still had hope.

As the end of the song blended with the beginning of another one, Laura twirled Carmilla around. Carmilla smiled, a real smile. She had a beautiful smile. The music began to pick up speed.

"Maybe we could cure you," Laura whispered suddenly. Carmilla stopped smiling and let go of her. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I've tried to find a cure, Cupcake." Carmilla smiled again, but differently. "There's nothing out there."

"You also tried to stop your mom before. And we. . . well okay, bad example." They both laughed at that. The song reached its crescendo. "Look, what I'm saying is, you can't give up hope." Laura looked down. "And if that doesn't work, then. . . maybe-"

"No." Carmilla threw her arms around Laura and pulled her close. The music became softer, slower now. "I can't let you do that. I won't."

Laura rested her head on Carmilla's shoulder. They stood like that for a minute, as the song changed again. Through a curtainless window they could see it was beginning to snow.

"Well, then, let's focus on right now. We have enough to worry about as is." Laura lifted her head up. Carmilla kept her hand on Laura's waist, and they began to dance again.

"If nothing else," Carmilla whispered as they glided around the floor, "we will always have this."

And so they danced for hours, by the moonlight and the falling snow, until they at last went to bed to get some rest for whatever tomorrow may bring.


End file.
